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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007324">Small</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillyPilgrim/pseuds/WillyPilgrim'>WillyPilgrim</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Zootopia (2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Multi, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:48:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillyPilgrim/pseuds/WillyPilgrim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam Ratowice is a rat living in Zootopia. Everything in his life, both physically and emotionally, is, to him, an uphill battle. <br/>Now, living more independently as well as with the "savage crisis" plaguing the city, he must find betterment in himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Rathole</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Goood morning, Zootopia!"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>The jarring sound of my phone's alarm forces me awake. My heart is suddenly racing, and I almost feel short of breath. The gentle chimes of my phone incite a disproportionate bout of rage and anxiety. It might finally be time to change my phone's alarm to something less... conditioned. I'll do it later. I rip my sleeping bag open, jump to my feet, and rush across the black wooden "floor" to a flat-headed twine spool which makes for an excellent table where my phone dutifully chimes away. "6:31 AM" <em>Dismiss, please. </em></p>
<p>As silence envelopes the room, the rush of adrenaline wears away as quickly as it had pulled me out of bed. I sit down on my chair and breathe a deep sigh. Struggling to keep my eyes open I look back down at my phone and turn on my music player. Careful to keep the volume down I turn on a shuffle playlist of Fleetwood Yak and peer out from my hovel to make sure I'm not disturbing either George or Danny. When neither even so much as flick their ears I sit back in the dark, still trying to build enough energy to get up and greet the day.</p>
<p>Halfway through "Tusk" I'm finally conscious enough to stumble to my feet and over to my makeshift bathroom in the opposite corner of my "room" from my bed. Two utility buckets, one filled with water under a mirror next to a set of stacked matchboxes which make for an improvised counter space. Glaring into the mirror I look, in typical fashion, terrible. Fur scruffy and unkempt, bags under my eyes, wearing nothing but my light-blue boxers and my pride.</p>
<p>A low rumble from my right grabs my attention. Suddenly Danny's sitting up in his bed and looking about as good as I do. I call up as quietly as I can "Mornin'. Did I wake you?" He doesn't respond, just stares off at nothing for a second or two before half-consciously scanning the room. His squinting eyes find themselves caught up with the very bottom compartment of the room's bookshelf, and soon enough with me.</p>
<p>"Hmm??"</p>
<p>I call up a touch more forcefully "I said, did I wake you?"</p>
<p>"Oh. No. No, you're fine."</p>
<p>To be perfectly honest, if he hadn't addressed me, I wouldn't even have known he'd seen me. He turns back to the position he started, staring blindly at some spot on the plaster between the assorted posters that litter the walls. From a mouth-full of toothpaste I call up "Sleep alright?"</p>
<p>He idly nods "Mhm."</p>
<p>"Is my music alright? I ain't bothering you, am I?"</p>
<p>The gears were now suddenly spinning. "Hmm? Oh. Yeah, you're fine."</p>
<p>When my expectant waiting for any sort continuation of our conversation is met only with the sound of George lightly snoring, it’s right back to brushing. <em>Great conversation, Danny. Really.</em> I can hear him tapping away at his phone before closing it and getting out of bed. I don't know that I will ever understand how a horse can be dexterous enough with a pair of hooves to use something like a phone. I don't think I even want to understand at this point. A light from the bathroom on the other side of the hallway flicks on, and it's suddenly a lot easier to see how bedraggled I am. I think I could use a shower.</p>
<p>Grabbing my towels, I trudge along through the hallway and across the living room. I can't say the three of us are exactly living in the nicest place, and most of our furnishings are hand-me-down I-DEA furniture, but we could be doing worse. All-in-all, it's a cozy place. At least, I imagine it is. I don’t get many opportunities to enjoy the majority of the apartment seeing as it’s all several times bigger than myself.</p>
<p>Being a rat living with a horse and a pig does create its fair share of unique challenges for all parties involved. For instance, there's The Stairs. See, some Elephant-owned and operated company, realizing there was money to be made in oddballs like me who find themselves wanting to live literally anywhere other than some place like Little Rodentia, makes conveniences such as The Stairs... It's essentially a giant fire-escape for getting up onto things like counters that are made for medium-sized mammals. Of course I say "giant" like it's not comparatively a toy to mammals like Danny or George or anyone that isn't a rodent.</p>
<p>Climbing up more stairs than I can count for a shower in the kitchen sink would definitely constitute a "unique challenge" by my standards, but an even greater challenge, still, is living in a "medium mammal" sized apartment building when the apartment you live in is on the second floor. This place isn't exactly the most rodent accessible... and getting up and down stairs that are near exactly my own height, let alone with a bicycle and all my stuff for work is what feels like an olympian feat every day. Definitely doesn't motivate me to get out very often. After getting my effects together, and following a quick (and meager) breakfast I shouldered my bicycle and found my way to Danny, who, by this time, was already settling in at his computer to enjoy his day off.</p>
<p>"Hey, uh, Dan? I could use some help."</p>
<p>He jumps out of his slumped position at his chair and looks down at me, now wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a tired old Pawaiian shirt. He looks down at me, then quickly back at his screen, then back at me. "Takin' off already? Little early, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"I was 10 minutes late, yesterday. I figure I'll take my chances being early."</p>
<p>"Fair enough." he lazily nods his head in approval before swiveling his chair around and escorting me to the door, naturally beating me to it in only a few quick strides.</p>
<p>Trying my best not to look like I'm exerting to be as quick as possible, I do a silly little half-jog, which looks even sillier with a bike over one shoulder, and my dusty old backpack over the other. "Big plans for today?" I call up in an attempt to curb any possible impatience he might be mustering.</p>
<p>"Nope! Just gonna kinda hang out today." His hoof is resting on the door-knob.</p>
<p>"Nice. Tell George I said hi when he wakes up, I'm not sure I'm gonna be back in time to see him before he heads off tonight."</p>
<p>"Arright, sounds good." He swings the door open for me, watching as I make my way through the doorway. "Have fun at work."</p>
<p>I flash a half-lidded smirk at him and remark "Oh you know I won't." The smirk fades quickly, and before he has the opportunity to close the door I weakly make out "Uh, hey, Danny?"</p>
<p>"Yeah?" he looks on curiously.</p>
<p>"I just wanted to, uh, thank you again that the two of you guys have taken me in and, uhm. That you guys have, uh... been so accommodating and, uhm. I-" I can't find much in me to look him in the eye. I just look off blankly down the hallway. "I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate what you guys are doin' for me."</p>
<p>I look back up to him, and to my surprise he looks an odd mix of bored and sympathetic. "Liam, like I said last time you brought this up, and the time before that, and the time before that: It's fine. You don't have to thank us... we're not even really doing anything for you. You pay your share of the rent just the same as we do."</p>
<p>I don't even have the opportunity to open my mouth to retort before he cuts me off.</p>
<p>"And before you say anything, we know how much rent is in those rodent apartments, and we appreciate you picking up where you can. And besides, you're our friend and me and Georgie both enjoy havin’ you around. Alright??"</p>
<p>This is all very rehearsed on his part. I just can't help but feel undeserving of Dan and George's kindness. I haven't done nearly as much as I feel I should. He says I "pick up where I can" but there's next to nothing I can do around the apartment because of my size. And I'd pick up a more equal share of the rent if not for the fact that rodents are taxed far greater on their income because of their lower living costs. It definitely doesn't inspire a lot of confidence, or help ease this feeling of helplessness. "Okay. Yeah, no, totally. I mean... Yeah, totally." are the only words I manage to find. "I'll, uhh, see you later Danny." and once again a smile finds its way on my face as I look back up at him.</p>
<p>"Yeah, seeya!"</p>
<p>Finally making my way down the hall, the door shuts behind me. I let out the breath I had been holding in. That went terrible. I FEEL terrible. Not only am I mooching off my two closest friends, but now I'm grating at their patience with my own inane and unfounded worries… actively creating problems that didn't even exist! I should have just kept my mouth shut. Who knows what Dan's thinking right now? For all I know it's one more slip up and they finally figure out that I'm not worth the trouble and kick me to the curb. Jeeze. What am I gonna do then? Those two lovable morons are the only things I've got left. Goodness knows that I can't-</p>
<p>It's at this moment that I nearly take my next step right off the stair in front of me. And I thought that little screw-up speech was a fun start to my morning. Doesn't matter. Time to get to it. With my bike still hanging from my shoulder I leap down from one step to the other, and to the other, and to the other. This pattern continues until I'm in the lobby, and starts again when I get to the front porch.</p>
<p>The morning sun beams down on the city streets. Mammals of all kinds walk every which way, a few cars darting along the street, which, itself, is packed at every parking space. Even this early in the morning Zootopia never seems to slow down. The sun is bright, and hot, and at the perfect angle to be right in my eyes. But the breeze is cool, which should keep me from getting all sweaty and gross before a nice 4 hours at Large’n’Charge. Within a moment, I’m on my bike and down the sidewalk, being careful to keep as close to the wall as possible. I don’t exactly feel like getting turned into red paste on the sidewalk today.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Large and in Charge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Could I interest you in signing up for our rewards program?"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Arriving at the front of Large’n’Charge I quickly look down at my watch. Only 5 minutes early, so I’d better hurry if I’m gonna punch in on time. I lock up my bike and make my way to the door, being greeted by a familiar artificial plastic smell as well as a relieving coolness which escapes quickly out the door to the warmth outside. Despite working here through the move, after having spent so long with Dan and George a me-sized door feels like a novelty. In fact, most things my size feel a little novel.</p><p>Walking into the store my coworker, and presumably the only other one working with me today, Michelle, looks up from the customer she’s helping and towards the door. The act itself is automatic - always keeping your eye on the door is what we’ve all been trained and conditioned to do. You could almost see her stop herself from blurting out ‘Hi, welcome!’ instead giving me a nod before going right back to ringing her customer.</p><p>I get all my stuff put away in my locker as quick as I can, check the time, <em>only two more minutes,</em> clock in, nametag on, out the door AND-</p><p>“Oh, Liam, there you are. Are you clocked in?”</p><p>If I had been a little quicker I would have barrelled right into my boss. She stands at about half my height being that she’s a particularly short mouse and I’m a particularly tall rat. Funny how that works, isn’t it?</p><p>“Oh uh, mornin’ Karen. Uhh, yeah, no, I’m clocked in.” My head bobs up and down, dumbly. <em>Uh-oh.</em></p><p>“Okay, good. Just head out on the floor then, and when you get off your shift just let me know.” <em>Uh-oh…</em></p><p>“Alright, sounds good.” <em>That’s not good.</em> A big smile is plastered across my face as I make way for her, and then right onto the floor I go. “Yo. Howsit goin’?” I blankly remark, like I’m expounding air rather than asking a question.</p><p>Michelle stands stiff and still at the computer. Eyes nearly glazed over as she scans through page after unending page of assorted things that we may or may not even sell anymore: A set of bedsheets, a small garden statue, a set of plastic storage containers, assorted toothbrushes. “Hey.” she mutters back, bent slightly down to get a better view of the too-short computer screen. I log into my register and after a few seconds she comes up with “I’m good. How are you?” To be honest, I had already forgotten I’d asked.</p><p>I sigh out heavily with “Ohh... well... it was going pretty good.” She, naturally, doesn’t look up. Just mutters out “I feel that.”</p><p>Any mammals I had seen when I walked in have all vanished. The entire store might as well be a ghost town. There’s evidence they were here, though. It’s only 9 o’clock and our returns are about halfway full. More fun work for us - although I can’t complain too much. It helps to have a lot of work in a place like Large’n’Charge. See, reality is… skewed here. Everything changes in an instant or doesn’t act as it should; the people around us, our own selves, the passage of time especially is distorted and a little hard to predict. It is typical, though, that if you’re busy the day goes by quickly. But, of course, nothing’s certain in a place like Large’n’Charge.</p><p>“Fun morning so far?” I ask</p><p>“Eh. It’s okay. Oh! Did you hear about what’s on the news?” Now she’s actually looking up at me, like the hypnotizing light of the computer has finally worn off.</p><p>My eyes roll. “Oh jeez, what now?”</p><p>“Apparently, predators are going <em>savage!</em>”</p><p>Suddenly I’m raked with confusion. “What?”</p><p>“Yeah, it was like... 14 predators or something. They had it all over the news this morning!” There’s not much that’s changed in her voice. The way she says all this is very casual, and it makes this whole interaction very off-putting.</p><p>“What in the world is going savage? What does that even mean?” I find myself sporting a noticeable grimace. It’s a mixture of confusion and disgust.</p><p>“Like… You know how there used to be savage mammals in like… the stone age? It’s basically that. They’re going back to, like, their ‘primal instincts’ and being all aggressive.” She says this in the same way she gossips about her ex-boyfriend that she just can’t find it in her to shut up about.</p><p>“‘Primal instincts’? Are you sure you weren’t just watching some cheesy Sci-fi? Because that sounds stupid. And ridiculous. ...And very made up, what are you trying to pull??”</p><p>“I didn’t make anything up! I’m tellin’ you, it was all they could talk about on the news.” She shrugs her shoulders and makes this face like I’m silly for not believing her. And just like that, she goes back to the computer screen, scrolling through page, after page, after page of products.</p><p>Cautiously eying her for just a minute more, I look back to the rest of the store in front of me, still holding onto that grimace of mine. “‘Savage predators’!” I scoff. “Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it.” But then, just like that, the grimace is wiped from my face like it hadn’t even been there, and in its place appears a “bright, warm, welcoming smile” as a customer suddenly (as it always does seem) materializes from out of thin air in front of my register.</p><p>She hurriedly pulls her items from out of her cart and stacks them in front of me. <em>In a hurry, are we?</em> “Hi there! Find everything you were looking for??” I ask, nice and expectantly while I start scanning through a number of canned goods. And… only… canned goods. Hm.</p><p>“Uh. Yes, thank you.” she quietly makes out, still stacking away. Peering into her cart I spy more of the same: Canned foods of all kinds, some toiletries, <em>Fox-Away? Jeez, I didn’t even realize we still carried that. Moron.</em> “Do you need a bag for all this?” I ask just as expectantly and with just as big of a smile.</p><p>She wakes up from her entrancement and locks eyes with me as I patiently wait for an answer. “I’m sorry, what was that?”</p><p>“Uh, do you need a bag for all-”</p><p>She cuts me off “Oh! Yes.” and right back to stacking. Bag it is then.</p><p>“Enjoying your morning so far?” I ask, with all the same enthusiasm, but not really caring for what she has to say, or if she even responds.</p><p>“OH it’s just been terrible! I’ve been so frightened since the news came out this morning about the savages! Can you believe it?” At that, my smile begins to falter. I quickly glance at Michelle, who is, once again, giving me the “You should feel silly” look. <em>Yeah, not on your life, Michelle.</em> I look back at the customer, who has even stopped stacking her Fox-Away, waiting for a response from me. I sort of just, flick my head to the side and remark “Y’know, I don’t think I can.”</p><p>“You had better be careful! I mean it! This store being right next to that predator sized store had me so scared to come here, but the prices are so good here I decided I’d risk it.” <em>Calm down, lady, there isn’t a gun pointed at your head.</em> She is, of course, referring to what we, down here, so fondly regard as “Larger’Charge.” It’s basically the same as our Large’n’Charge - except it’s made for medium and even large mammals. We, who work down here, don’t really get to do much of any interacting with anyone who works in Larger’Charge and I wouldn’t really know any of them if I’d seen them. But from what little I’ve seen it’s basically exactly what it sounds - a bigger version of my own job.</p><p><em>Someone has clearly spent a little too much time in front of the T.V.</em> “Well, I can assure you, ma’am, that you have nothing to fear here!” <em>or anywhere else for that matter.</em> “Total is gonna be one fifty seven nineteen, will that be with cash or card?”</p><p>She suddenly chirps out, “Oh! I just remembered I have coupons!” pulling an entire file-folder out of her purse, overflowing with various coupons. <em>Ugh.</em></p><p>More customers than I can count go by, each with a “Hi, how are you, find what you were looking for, need a bag, hope to see you again soon!” and so on and so forth. It’s only every so often when Karen walks by, flashing a big smile at Michelle and I, that I’m reminded of my impending doom at her paws. Guess I can kiss this job goodbye. <em>Calm down, you’re overreacting. But what if I’m not? If she was gonna fire you, she would have done it before your shift. But she could have been short-staffed today! You’re fine, you moron, nothings gonna-</em></p><p>“It’s one o’clock, aren’t you off, Liam?”</p><p>“Huh?” suddenly I’m conscious again. “Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.” Michelle forks over our radio. “Uhh, LOD, this is Liam. May I clock out for the day?” <em>Did I even take my break today? I think I did??</em></p><p>The radio sputters back “Yup, you’re good. When you’re clocked out come up and see me.” I look up, and there she is, staring at me with radio in paw in front of the door to the offices. A cold chill runs up my spine. <em>Yeah, no, you’re screwed.</em> I look over to Michelle, who I’d’ve put money on for making some jab or comment, but nothing comes. <em>Totally screwed.</em></p><p>Large’n’Charge is always air conditioned, kept relatively cold compared to outside. It’s one of the nicer things about working here. But for some reason the back-room and the offices are always noticeably warm. Evidently, so am I. I feel like I’m burning up, and my legs feel weak. Karen’s office door is open, and I meekly peer inside. There she is, sitting at her computer, clattering away at her keyboard. It feels like she just barely takes notice of me when she says “Ah, Liam, why don’t you sit down.” <em>Oh boy.</em></p><p>Sitting down in the chair across from her, I sit up straight and with purpose, bracing myself for what’s to come. My posture is fantastic.</p><p>“So, Liam, I was told you were late yesterday...” Her glare could probably stop my heart right this second if she wanted to. “Which would be the third time this week, is that correct?”</p><p>“Yes, it is. I am terribly sorry, it was my fault. I haven’t been as good as I need to be about managing the time it takes to get here. I’ve already started getting up earlier than usual to give myself enough time, and I promise it won’t happen again.” It was only when I finished the sentence that I realized I hadn’t been looking at her the entire time I spoke. <em>Oh you stupid moron, now you’ve done it.</em> Driving my gaze back to her, I know that her expression hasn’t changed an inch, but somehow it seems softer.</p><p>“Okay. That’s good. I’m glad you’re solving the problem… You’re a great employee, Liam, and we all like having you here, and the customers all really like you,” she assures me, “but we can’t have you being late every day, alright?”</p><p>I nod in agreement “Absolutely. It’s completely unacceptable behavior, and as I said I will not let it happen again.”</p><p>Suddenly and without warning she’s smiling. “Awesome! That’s all I wanted to talk to you about. Have a great rest of your day!” Suddenly, now I’m smiling.</p><p>Then I’m out of my chair like a shot, “Sounds good, Karen, I will see you tomorrow then!”</p><p>Speaking to me now like I’m a customer, she simply replies “Okay, Liam, I’ll see you then - you stay safe!”</p><p>I nod to her as I walk out and to my locker. It’s hard to say that I’ve ever felt this relieved before in my life. It feels like I just stood at the hangman’s gallows and did a somersault off it. I didn’t even notice it but I’m finally able to breathe again.</p><p>Pretty soon I’m down to the bathroom with my backpack for a quick-change. From a pair of slacks and a nice button-down to a pair of cargo pants bloused into a pair of tac-boots with a crummy button-down. Off to the golf-club.</p><p>I sit back in the seat of my bike, cautiously peering at those I go by - offering a nod when any one of them notices, but it’s usually just other rodents. Pedaling steadily, the words ring in my ears... “You stay safe.” Hmh. She’s never said that to me before. I probably wouldn’t even have thought anything of it except for whatever this “savage” thing is that’s got everyone all twisted out of shape. <em>Jeez, Karen, even you?</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Give Peace a Chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Legalize beans, man!"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Ahh. The Golf Club. You, physical representation of everyone and everything I hate… Oh, how I love you! And how much more I love that I only have to wash dishes here, rather than dealing with the Club’s patrons. It’s a job I was made for; Sit in the corner, do a repetitive and monotonous task for 6 hours, go home. It could not be simpler.</p><p>Walking right through the front door it would appear there’s some sort of get-together going on, which I’m desperately hoping doesn’t mean more work for me. Out the window I see a number of various rodents playing their holes on the seemingly endless fields of green with towering buildings as a backdrop. One wouldn’t exactly expect a golf course in the middle of a metropolitan area as Zootopia, but, as most rodent-sized accommodations are, the entire course takes up the equivalent of a vacant lot. And goodness knows the price of admission topped with “generous donations” from the wealthy patrons more than covers expenses.</p><p>After clocking in and entering the kitchen I’m bombarded with all sorts of smells from whatever’s being prepared. Typically, idle glances at the grilles and friers offer no explanation as to what is actually being prepared - they could be prepping fried rat and I’d be none the wiser.</p><p>The only one who acknowledges me is the head chef, Lisa, who gives me a big smile. I give a nice smile back, nod my head, and proceed to the sink. I throw on a pair of gloves and a bib-apron, and after putting in my earphones it’s right to work.</p><p>One by one, the servers and cooks line up everything you could imagine for me to clean, from pots, to plates, to utensils of every kind. Every time, I try my best to turn at least part-way around and give out an obligatory “thank you.” Each time, of course, eying who it was. It’s not as though there’s anything better to do than mammal-watch anyways. When I first got the job here, some would say something like “no problem.” but now most everyone just ignores me.</p><p>It’s not long into my six hour shift that I begin to remember how hungry I am right now. Smells of grilling bug, fish, and spices fill the room, and suddenly I’m light headed. It’s hard to keep my eyes open in the heat of the kitchen. I take a swig from my water bottle, physically feeling how empty my stomach is, and get right back to work. I just keep trying to shake myself out of it. Only a couple more hours, you’re fine.</p><p>Another set of plates is set down behind me. I don’t turn around, just mutter out “thank you.” when suddenly I can hear someone talking with much more direction than normal from past my music. Like, someone’s talking to me. I turn around, and the server who left the plates there is looking at me expectantly. I pull out one of my headphones. “Sorry, what’s up?”</p><p>“I said are you going to Kirk’s party tonight?” The guy’s a squirrel, not much shorter than I am. <em>How does this guy know Kirk? How does he know I know him??</em></p><p>“Uhh... yeah, I mean, I’m hoping I can get out of here in time to make it.” I weakly nod my head.</p><p>
  <em>How does this guy know me? I mean, beyond the fact that we work together, obviously. He does look at least a little bit familiar… Again; coworker.</em>
</p><p>“Awesome, man, I’ll see you there!” and just like that, he’s gone.</p><p>“Yeah, sounds good.” <em>Who ARE you?? Think, think, think… Okay, we both know Kirk. How do we both know Kirk? Probably one of his parties?</em> My stomach growls. <em>Food, food, all around…</em> Another stack of plates is set down. “Thank you.” My voice is tired, and exacerbated, and at this point what I meant to be courtesy probably comes off as snark.</p><p>Plates and utensils graduate to cookware and buffet trays as the night progresses. From under my bib-apron I can feel myself having been completely soaked through. My head still feels light, and I could probably smell a bagel from 3 miles out, but I just keep working. Another straggling set of plates is set down, I turn around “Thank you-.”</p><p>Standing behind me is the head chef, Lisa, with a nice pleasant smile. She’s a portly Hamster that’s a little taller than I am. I pull my headphones out as quick as lightning. “You’re very welcome!” She says in a way to imply that she’s pleasantly surprised. “Uh, Liam, I just wanted to make sure that tonight you could just leave the floor mats outside instead of putting them back after you mop.”</p><p>“Sure, I can do that.” giving her a nod and a smile.</p><p>“Did you get anything to eat?”</p><p>“What?” I kind of look around, like maybe she was asking someone else. “I didn’t know there was food?”</p><p>That stuns her, “Really? Nobody told you?”</p><p>I nod ‘no’ dumbly</p><p>“Well then go get yourself something, we’ve got plenty left over from the party!” she points over to one of the counters with a number of buffet trays.</p><p>I side-eye all the plates I still have to clean, and then think about the floor I still have to mop. “A-are you sure? I don’t know that I’ll even have the time…”</p><p>“Oh you’ll be fine! You have plenty of time. Go! Get yourself a plate! Bring home some leftovers, we have a lot!”</p><p>Apprehensively complying, I give a quick nod, and make my way over. Plate in paw, I look over what’s out. Some sort of weird pasta, some salad, and a tray that is all but empty except for some crumbs and exactly one piece of garlic bread. I grab as much of it as I can, shove it onto my plate, and return to the sink. Being at just the right height to be too awkward to rest against, and with my feet ready to give out under me, and with the floor being covered in water, I finally settle on squatting down. Hunched over my one good meal for the day, I rather ungracefully begin stuffing my mouth.</p><p>The noodles are cold, and the salad is warm. Coupled with the fact that it just so slightly hurts every time I swallow and I could say with confidence that I’ve eaten better some more pleasant meals. Doesn’t stop me from grabbing a helping of seconds, of course, followed by filling a take-out box nearly to the brim with leftover pasta. Suddenly I feel a lot better. Funny how that works.</p><p>Eventually the night comes to an end, I clock out, and I’m off on my bike again. Even at 9 at night, plenty of mammals are out and about. Majority of them are, to be expected, nocturnal. It’s fairly difficult to see between the light of the streetlamps, but I keep close to the walls, and still do my best to keep an eye on those going by. You just never know with some mammals.</p><p>I soon enough find myself at Kirk’s apartment. Music is playing from beyond the closed door, itself being several sizes larger than myself. Pulling out my phone, I call Kirk, waiting for a few rings before he finally picks up.</p><p>“Hello??” he slurs out.</p><p>“Hey. I’m here, could you get the door?”</p><p>He scoffs. “No. Of course not. What are you, crazy?”</p><p>I flatly remark “Yep. I’d really ought to be committed.”</p><p>“Absolutely. You’re a complete danger to society, and all those around you. It’s disgusting that freaks like you can even walk the streets freely. You should really just be shot. Save everyone the trouble.” I can almost hear the grin on his face.</p><p>That gets a laugh out of me. “Now that can agree with.”</p><p>A quick silence ensues.</p><p>“Alright, I’ll be there in just a minute.”</p><p>“Sounds good.”</p><p>I lean against my bike, quietly waiting, not really looking at anything. Then the door opens, ever so slightly - so little that even I would be troubled to sneak through. Staring villainously down at me from far above is the singular eye of Kirk. His eye, illuminated by the light of the apartment hallway, is opened wide and I can barely spot the edge of his curled grin from behind the door, like he’s just heard a joke I’m not supposed to know.</p><p>“Hey Kirk, howsit goin’?”</p><p>He stays silent, just keeps staring. The ridiculousness of the situation is enough to get another laugh out of me.</p><p>“Fun party tonight, then?” you couldn’t get the smile I’m wearing off my face with a crowbar, and I fight off another fit of laughing.</p><p>There’s no change. Music keeps playing from inside the darkened apartment. And then, without warning, the door slams shut. It stays that way for what must be a solid 10 seconds. Then, slowly, the door opens again, the same eye peering down at me. Before I think this could go on for much longer, the door is flung open and quickly the mountain-lion swoops down onto one knee. “Hey, Liam, glad you could make it man!”</p><p>He pats my entire body, rather roughly might I add, with his paw before extending a single digit outward towards me which I slap with as much force as I can muster. That is to say ‘not very much’ by either rodent or lion standards. “Heeyy, I’m just glad to be here man! How you doin’?”</p><p>“It’s going awesome, man. Hey, what happened? Did you wet yourself or something?” pointing to me incredulously - still grinning.</p><p>Staring down at myself I’m still soaked through from about half-way up my shirt all the way down to the tops of my boots. Looking up at him scornfully I remark “If I seriously had to go THAT bad, I would hope that you’d call me an ambulance. No, just a long night washing dishes. I’m probably gonna change into something a little more comfortable.”</p><p>He stands back up, his David Howlie shirt in full view. “Yeah, sure.” as I step into the apartment something in his face changes. “Did you really ride your bike all the way over here from your place?”</p><p>“No, no, I rode over from my job at the Golf Club. Speakin’ of which, is there anywhere I can stash this?”</p><p>“Yeah, you can just leave it here by the door…” there’s a hint of concern in his voice, “Are you gonna need a ride home tonight?”</p><p>“I was kind of hoping you’d offer. It’s been a very long day.” Looking around, it’s a lot less crowded here than typical. A small group is sitting out on the balcony, and naturally I spot Cole off in the kitchen, talking with some ewe I’ve never seen before. “Anyways, I’m gonna go get changed.”</p><p>Just then a wolf comes up and asks Kirk something I didn’t bother to hear before the two of them are off without another word. Scanning the room I look off to a spot in the corner between the wall and the sofa and decide that’s as good a spot as any to get changed.</p><p>It wasn’t, of course. With my work pants still halfway around my ankles, the arm of the couch rocks above me and from it I hear Cole’s voice, “Hey, Liam!” I look up, still hunched over with my pants still around my ankle. She’s draped over the couch arm looking down at me, both of the doe’s hooves gripping over the side, showing the too-big cuffs of her too-big army jacket with not a care in the world.</p><p>“Uhh. Hey, Cole.” I leave it at that, really hoping she’ll put two and two together.</p><p>“How are you? Did you just get here?” she asks, expression unchanging.</p><p>I drawl out “Uhm. It would seem as though you’ve caught me at a disadvantage, Cole. You’ll have to give me a minute.” I sort of gesture with my shoulders at the fact that right now I’m in my boxers and nothing but.</p><p>She figures it out. “Oh! Uh- I’m sorry! I’ll let you…” slowly she slumps off. <em>Well, serves me right.</em></p><p>This time, I make sure nobody sees me as I re-enter the room, now wearing my much more appropriate Large’n’Charge clothes. Not much of anything is really going on… There are a couple more mammals in the kitchen that I’ve never seen, Kirk and Cole out on the balcony. At this point, all I really feel like doing is getting off my feet.</p><p>After scaling the front of the couch (which is no easy feat) I lay flat on my back with my paw under the back of my head. I close my eyes, letting out a deep sigh as I let myself sink into the cushion of the couch. The music booms, but I tune it out. What I can’t tune out is “Hey! There you are!” from none-other than the mystery squirrel.</p><p>My eyes just barely unlid themselves. Standing above me and to the left is my squirrel co-worker. He looks pleased with himself, as though we were playing a game of hide n’ seek. “Hey, man… Yup. I’m here, just like I said.” I sigh before closing my eyes again.</p><p>He interrupts the brief pause. “I like your outfit.”</p><p>“Yeaah, yeah… Beats being water-logged.”</p><p>He laughs, rather forcefully. Once again there’s a pause, and once again he breaks it. “You tired?”</p><p>“Very.” eyes still closed.</p><p>“Alright, well I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll see you around, tonight, right?”</p><p>“Hopefully.”</p><p>“Alright, later, Liam!” and with that I feel his weight shift away from my spot on the couch. My brow furrows. <em>Oh great, he knows my name? How does he know my name? Did we actually meet each other?? Am I supposed to know his name? Am I gonna be a jerk if I don’t know it??</em></p><p>Eventually I find it in me to sit up, before pulling out my phone. 10:34. If I had any sense I’d already be in bed. Looking up, I spot Cole coming over. I flash a nice smile. “Hey, Cole! Good to see you!”</p><p>She smiles and sits down next to me. “Hey Liam! Sorry, about earlier.”</p><p>“Bah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I... might not mention it to Kirk, though, maybe?”</p><p>She perks her head up and makes a zipper motion over her mouth. Speak of the devil… Kirk lumbers over, now wearing a red bandana around his head and… Cole’s now too-small army jacket which I just noticed she's missing from her ensemble. With little grace he walks up to the both of us, pointing back and forth between us, and, in some sort of strange impression, cries out “The government branded me a killer for not eating my broccoli!” sitting down in-between us, throwing his arm around Cole and wrapping a paw around me and begging us, “What kind of world is it we live in that eating beans in public makes us monsters?? It’s time we took a stand!” his grip tightens on me.</p><p>“Y’know, I couldn’t agree more.” I play along.</p><p>“Absolutely, you should start a petition.” Cole joins in.</p><p>He loosens his grip just a bit. Then looks to Cole, then down to me before pulling us both in closer to him and idly scanning the room, like he was clutching a set of grand awards and displaying them for all to see. The awards, of course, being Cole and I.</p><p>“Hey, Kirk. I might need to take you up on that offer pretty soon here, I’m gettin’ a little tired and I’ve got work in the morning.”</p><p>At that, Kirk shrugs his shoulders. “Aww come on, can’t you stay a little longer?”</p><p>“Sorry man, I don’t think I can pull an all-nighter.” I regretfully inform.</p><p>“Naaah, man, how about you stay over for the night and I’ll give you a ride in the morning?”</p><p>Admittedly, that does sound pretty nice. I think it over, before I finally cave. “Alright, I think I can do that.”</p><p>The rest of the night goes by without much to mention. I hang around a couple of people I’m at least familiar with. Never got to talk to that squirrel guy again. Every so often someone mentions the “savage crisis” as it’s being called now apparently. I remark my own skepticism about the idea (which seemed to match everyone else’s stance,) and also recount all the panicking people at my work. Mostly, though, it seemed everyone was just hoping it’d mean they’d get some time off school.</p><p>Eventually I remember Dan, and that I should probably call him and let him know I’m not gonna be back. I excuse myself from the idle conversation that I wasn’t really a part of to begin with, and pull out my phone. Following a couple of rings he picks up.</p><p>“Uh. H-hey, I’m gonna need a second to get the door for you..."</p><p>“Oh, uh, hey Dan. No, you’re fine. Just wanted to call and let you know that I’m not gonna be back tonight, gonna stay over here at my buddy’s place.”</p><p>“Uh- OH! You’re staying at your friend’s place for the night??”</p><p>“Yup. So you’re all good. Guess you’ve got the apartment to yourself. I should see you sometime tomorrow when I get off work.”</p><p>“S-Sounds good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll talk to you la-” Before I have a chance to finish, he hangs up. That was weird. Guess I caught him in the middle of something.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. After (the) Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Bear Grills would be so proud."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p><em>Ugh.</em> Stirring in my cocoon, I try to find some semblance of comfort in the grooves of the carpet. The light from Kirk’s lizard terrarium also doesn’t help me get back to sleep. I turn around onto my other side and try to settle in. <em>Wait. I could have sworn he turn that light off.</em> I shoot up out of my makeshift bedding. The light is indeed not from the terrarium - it’s from behind the shutters. <em>It’s from outside.</em></p><p><em>Oh no. No no no no NO! I overslept! I thought I set my alarm right! Didn’t I set my alarm?</em> I’m frantically out of my spot on the floor and onto my feet. I pace around for a moment while my brain tries it’s best to catch up before it figures out what’s going on and I’m grabbing at clothes in a frenzy. <em>I can’t believe it! I DON’T believe it! How could I be so stupid?? I should have never agreed to Kirk's stupid idea to stay at his stupid party! And after that whole thing that she talked about. “Can’t have you bein’ late every day” “Oh, no, won’t happen again!” Can’t even go one day keeping your word! Idiot! Moron!</em></p><p>I check my phone. <em>Maybe the day can be salvaged. Maybe if I get Kirk up right now and we rush out the door-</em> 6:47. Then I check my alarm. Set for 8 o’clock. <em>Oh. Oh, yeah. I have a 10 o’clock shift.</em> I’m overtaken by a yawn, and then I’m back on the ground. At the very least I can get some more sleep. <em>That’ll be nice before work.</em></p><p>Then I’m down on my back. Then I’m off to my side. Then my other side. I fluff up my backpack which doesn’t make for a very good makeshift pillow. I yawn again. Now my knees hurt against each other. So I move one closer to my chest, then farther away. <em>No. No. Ow..</em> I yawn again. Now there are tears in my eyes from yawning. Now my backpack’s got a wet spot exactly where my face is. I sit back up. Well so much for that.</p><p>Kirk was courteous enough to leave his bedroom door open for me. Not wide open, of course, so I have to pry it open with a show of effort. The place is a bit of a mess. Empty cups are strewn, here and there, on the floor. Plenty more are on the tables and counters. Feeling it only right to pay Kirk back for having me, I start rolling as many derelict cups and pieces of trash as I can off into a spot next to the trash can. A rat can only do so much.</p><p>I admire my work in the form of a big pile of cups that probably looks worse than if I had just left it be. Whatever. Standing there on the kitchen tiles, my stomach begins to growl. <em>Glad I asked Kirk if I could keep my leftover pasta in the fridge.</em> The real trick is getting to it. I assess the situation: <em>My food is in the fridge. The fridge is closed. The fridge is also several times larger than myself and sealed shut. How to get in? Ask Kirk? No. Bad idea. Kirk’s asleep. Jerk move. Grab the handle? No. Pry it open? Yeah.</em> The idea’s firmly planted in my brain. <em>I’m getting in that fridge.</em></p><p><em>Okay, how to do this? Maybe if I get the seal pried far enough away I can get it to open? Alright, let’s give that a try.</em> I tug as much as I can on the corner to… no effect. That being said, the seal did move a little bit. <em>Maybe if I get farther under the seal I can…</em> Pulling as hard as I can with one paw I shove my other paw as far under as I can and start pulling from there. Once again, no effect. <em>There must be some way I’m not thinking of.</em> Beginning to stand away from the fridge to get a better look, my steps are interrupted by the fact that the fridge won’t let go of my paw. “Uh oh.”</p><p>I give my paw a much more forceful tug, and it doesn’t budge. So I start pulling with my other paw. Nothing. I try pulling away the seal, and then tug. Nada. “Oh boy.” I’m now at the mercy of Kirk’s refrigerator. <em>At least I’m wearing pants...</em> A quick scan of the kitchen offers no solution. I’m right and truly stuck. <em>Didn't they make a movie about this?</em></p><p><em>Okay. This is fine. I can just call Kirk-</em> I pat myself down with my free paw. My phone’s still in his room. <em>Okay, scratch that. Can’t call him. Might be able to scream for him... but I really don’t wanna do that. Wait a minute. My alarm is set for 8 o’clock. So all I have to do is wait for it to go off, he’ll come out, save the day. I do NOT need to freak out. We’ll both be laughing about this in a couple of minutes!</em></p><p>A couple of minutes go by, then a couple more, and then a couple more just for good measure. I’m realizing how quiet the apartment actually is. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this calm, this empty. Any time I’ve been here, it’s always loud, there’s always people… Seeing it this way is very foreign. It’s only the odd car horn that interrupts the silence. Eventually, I sit down, my arm hanging far above me, and close my eyes.</p><p>I’m awoken to an unmistakable snickering. My eyes open, and there’s Kirk, looking especially pleased with himself to have found me in my predicament. In his paw is his phone, with the camera pointed directly at me. He snaps a picture, still giggling, before setting his phone down on the counter and crossing his arms. “Up for a midnight snack?” he makes out through gritted teeth.</p><p>I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I got my grubby mit in more than just the cookie jar, didn’t I? Better send me that picture, by the way.”</p><p>Without waiting for a request, he opens the fridge door and I can suddenly feel just how little I can feel out of my entire left arm. While shaking it out I ask succinctly “Time?”</p><p>“Uhh.. 8:24.”</p><p>“Oh boy. Alright. Think we can be out of here by 9?”</p><p>“I mean, it shouldn’t take an hour to get there. How about 9:30? That’ll give you plenty of time.”</p><p>I’m skeptical, but reluctantly reply “Sure.”</p><p>He starts digging through the fridge, which reminds me why I was even stuck in the first place. “Uh, Kirk? My pride won’t prohibit me from asking you if you might be able to get my leftovers out of the fridge. Do you mind?”</p><p>With a short nod, he reaches in, and pulls out between his two fingers last night’s leftovers. They are, to be expected, cold - but I’m not gonna be picky. Without a fork either, I open the box, shrug to myself, and begin scooping refrigerated pasta into my mouth with my bare paw. <em>Like the pasta fiend you are.</em></p><p>Halfway through making his bowl of cereal, Kirk takes notice of me, scarfing down pasta with reckless abandon. “Uh. Do you want, maybe.. Like.. A fork?”</p><p>I’m a little shocked. “Do you have a fork?”</p><p>“Of course!” he scoffs.</p><p>“A rat sized fork??”</p><p>“Oh. Uh... Yeah, no.” and that’s all he says before it’s right back to his cereal. <em>It would seem neither of us are firing on all cylinders this morning.</em></p><p>The ride over was pleasant. Not getting to see out any of the windows got me a little car sick, but it only took about 20 minutes to get to Large’n’Charge(With air-conditioning no less!) I could get used to this. We don’t talk on the way over - instead opting to belt out a couple of Jim Boarison songs he’s got playing on CD on the way there, which definitely got my blood pumping. By the time we actually get there, it feels like I’ve almost thrown out my voice.</p><p>Kirk helps me out - even I can’t make it from the car to the curb with a bike slung over my shoulder. “Hey, thanks for the ride, man. I really appreciate it.”</p><p>“Hey, yeah, man, for sure. Thanks for coming last night. It was great to see you again.”</p><p>“Hey, thanks for thinkin’ to invite me! I do appreciate it.”</p><p>“‘Course! Alright, well I’ll see you later.” He pats me with his paw, staggering me over my bike, and I return with a wound-up hit on the tip of his digit. With a lazy salute, he’s back in his car, and away he goes. Which means now it’s time for some fun in Large’n’Charge. I brace myself.</p><p>Hours later I’m stood in front of my very own door again. Exhausted, I try my luck at simply knocking on the door. I could have guessed I’d get no response, so I pull out my phone and call Danny.</p><p>“Hey, Liam.”</p><p>“Yo. No false alarms, this time. Mind getting the door?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Within a few quick seconds, the door’s open and Dan’s looking down at me. “Hey!” he double-takes “Wow. You look terrible.”</p><p>Through tired eyes I look only halfway up to him and reply “Thanks! I.. feel terrible.” I stumble through the door past him.</p><p>“Well you’re just in time. We’re in the middle of a Technomech game. Wanna join in?” he asks from behind me.</p><p>Normally, that’s pretty enticing. But all I make out in reply is an “Eh.” with a quick, dismissive wave of the paw.</p><p>He chuckles “Laaaame! You’re <em>lame</em>! Loser!”</p><p>Turning around, eyes half-lidded and a smug grin on my face, I call out “Yeah, says the guy who regularly makes ‘Vroom’ sounds while playing with his toy cars!”</p><p>George, who I only just noticed is sitting in the room at his own desk starts chuckling to himself, looks back at Dan, and says in regular fashion “I mean, he’s got you there!”</p><p>Stifling his own laughter, Danny comes back with “Can’t a guy play with his toy cars? I do not see the problem with this.”</p><p>Pretty soon the three of us are all laughing together. When the laughter dies down, and Dan sits back at his desk, I cave and say “Alright, tell you what? I’ll get myself cleaned up and I’ll <em>think</em> about joining you.” I eye him, as though defying him to keep trying to convince me. He just smiles and puts his headphones back on.</p><p>I shower, get dressed, and finally sit down, which feels incredible after 6 hours of standing at Large’n’Charge, topped off with that hike up The Stairs. I have to take a couple of minutes to recoup… Which I immediately regret having done and not having taken the time to let my computer boot up. Regardless, I (eventually) bring up the game and join their voice call. Despite the fact that we live with each other, it’s typically easier to communicate through a voice call whenever we're playing a game - especially since the only rat-sized power outlet is the one we jury rigged into my hovel and they're set up in the living room.</p><p>I thought, in my own flawed logic, that I’d play a couple of quick games before heading off to bed. I was foolish to believe that, and it was only when George finally announced he had to leave for work that I realized just how foolish I really was. Because him leaving meant it was past 12 o’clock and my early shift was not going away any time soon. I wasn’t even all the way into my cot before I was out like a light.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Squash 'Em Like Bugs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"D'aww, he's cute when he's mad"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>I limp with great effort through the kitchen. In my paws, one of our anti-slip mats, soapy and wet, but still covered in grime. A rat can only do so much. I heave it down into its spot in front of one of the flat-top grilles before I admire my work. Another nice fun day at the golf club finished. Unwrapping my bib-apron, I take notice of Lisa walking through the kitchen, still tending to some sort of social gathering - I’d wager it’s the club owners. “Uh, Lisa, I’m all finished here. Is it alright if I clock out?”</p><p>“Absolutely! Thank you so much for all your help!” she says, smiling ear to ear.</p><p>She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I grab my bag and clock out at a clean 9:05, but before I take off I talk myself into sitting down. Not like I've got anywhere to be anyways. I stride through the open dining room. Hardly any of the lights are on, and in the corner sit a group of well-dressed men and women, mostly rats, drinking and engaged in what must be riveting discussion. I glance quickly at them, but I’m more focused on my main target: The bar.</p><p>I don’t drink, and I doubt I ever will - but the mouse barkeep tolerates me and the stools are still out. I give the bartender a lazy nod as I sit down, groaning in relief. He returns a smile and a nod as he cleans. “Howsit going?” I ask.</p><p>“Fine.” he replies, not bothering to look up.</p><p>“Fun night?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s been fine.”</p><p>I tap my paws idly on the bar. “Uh... would it be alright if I got something to drink?”</p><p>Now I’ve got his attention. “You got ID??”</p><p>I’m quick to clarify “No, no, nothing like that. Just a lemonade?”</p><p>He laughs to himself, shakes his head, and pours pink lemonade into a glass cup. As he awkwardly half-places-it-in-front-of-me half-hands-it-to-me I ask “What do I owe you?” to which he shakes his head and puts up his paw as if the act itself waived my tab. Fair enough.</p><p>Some older rat, dressed to the nines, sits down just a few stools away from me and asks the bartender something. I give him a look-over, before it’s bottom’s up with my lemonade and the cup’s empty. “Ohhh, I needed that.” the bartender gets another laugh with that one. It’s then I notice the older rat’s now looking <em>me</em> over, I look right back at him and give him a nod, and the look of concern on his face is replaced with a smile before he nods back.</p><p>He looks to the bartender, who is right this moment fixing him a drink, and points upward towards the bar’s TV. “Could we get the volume on? I wanna hear this.” Barkeep silently complies, and the flatscreen above the bar begins sputtering out sound. It’s turned to ZNN, some wolf on the screen - and he doesn't look all too happy.</p><p>“-the victim of a mauling by a savage polar bear. This marks the 27th savage attack in the city, just one week following the ZPD press conference where officer Judy Hopps connected the violence to traditionally predatory animals…”</p><p>My eyes roll and I can’t help but sigh. <em>How little would it matter to anyone if YOU didn’t report on it?</em> I shake my head slowly. “Why the eye-roll?” I look over to the old rat. He’s looking at me, expecting an answer.</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>“You rolled your eyes and-” He mockingly shrugs his shoulders, sighs, and rolls his eyes all at once before looking back at me. I’ve gotten that look he’s got in his eyes from many before; this guy’s out for blood.</p><p>Here we go. I breathe deeply “I dunno, this whole thing just seems like it’s... just a lot of sensationalism.” I’m trying to watch my words carefully, I really don’t need some old guy giving me the third degree over this right now.</p><p>He nods his head, then looks to the bartender, expecting some sort of reciprocation in his agreement, then back to me. “Yeah. It is a sensation!” he motions towards the TV, which is now droning on about protests, and peace rallies or something. “The news puts this stuff on because it’s what people want to see - the <em>vast majority</em> of people! This is everyone’s focus! You never know when you’re gonna walk outside and some savage is gonna tear yah limb from limb!”</p><p>I try very hard to keep from laughing, but I do crack a smile and say “Well, sir, if’n you don’t mind me sayin’, you look pretty unscathed to me… Would you be able to tell me just how many of your friends have been mauled in one of these attacks? Or how many more have turned themselves? How many do <em>you</em> know that have been personally affected by what’s going on right now?”</p><p>You can see him working his best to not deflate even the slightest. “No, I don’t know anyone who’s gone savage, or been attacked, but I know plenty more who have been affected.” He motions around us with both paws “Even here! Mammals are too afraid to even be here, or anywhere else for that matter! We’re losing money!” He kind of swoops down in his seat, like he’s telling me a secret of some sort. “These predators are <em>menaces</em> to society and they’re bringing down all of Zootopia!”</p><p>“Menaces?” I interrupt, “I think you’re forgetting, these predators are just as much victims of this whole thing as anyone who’s been attacked. They’re sick! They need help! People think it’s got something to do with biology, but we don’t know! It could be something in the water for all we know, or-or some weird new disease!” I throw my hands out in a pleading motion. “They’re not the problem here - we need to have compassion now more than ever!”</p><p>He scoffs out “Compassion!” he scans around the bar, like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. “Why should we have compassion for these monsters?” he looks back and forth between me and the TV, which is now showing footage of that polar bear being muzzled by a couple of cops. He starts wagging his finger at me. In a low whisper he says from across the bar “You know what? I think you’re right. We don’t know.” he nods his head up and down, looking around the bar again before coming right back to me. “And if we find out it’s some bad bug meat, or something in the water? All the better, and we’ll nip it right in the bud. But if we find out that it’s something in those predator's biology like that bunny said? We’d ought to squash ‘em all like bugs.”</p><p>His words and the dead seriousness in his tone sends chills down my spine. This is clearly a battle I’m not going to win. I look off to the bartender, and he’s looking at me in disbelief. I compose myself, put on a face like I’m really considering his words. Like that was some profound revelation I just didn’t think about. Then, I top it off by nodding my head while looking over the room. Before I get the chance to look back at him, I notice that the entire room has gone dead silent… and everyone is looking at me.</p><p>I shrug my shoulders, and calmly make out “Y’know, maybe.” I stand up from my seat and say to the bartender “Hey, thanks for the lemonade.” I smile at both of them, and then calmly walk to the door. The only sounds are my footsteps, and the TV.</p><p>The entire ride home, my heart is pounding out of my chest. <em>Did I seriously just mouth off to one of the heads of the Golf Club?? I just fried myself, didn’t I? You really did it this time Liam. How’s that Tom Leopard line go? “Takes a certain amount of courage to get up and come out in favor of all the things everyone else in the room is against, like peace and justice and brotherhood and so-on.”</em> Despite everything, I find myself laughing.</p><p>“Liam? Liam Ratowice?” I pump my brakes as hard as I can. <em>Who said that?</em> I look around - all that’s in that direction is some street cafe. Nobody’s looking at me and I don’t see anyone I recognize. I’m about ready to take off again when a lone paw raises over the crowd of one table. The hand disappears, and jumping from around the table I see a familiar coyote. He’s scanning the sidewalk, presumably looking for me.</p><p>I put up one arm and wave to him “Right here, man!” I do know this guy… we both shared a couple of classes in high school. He’s a real chill dude, nice enough - I think he was a grade below me? Of course, for the life of me, I can’t remember his name… but I’m sure it’ll come to me.</p><p>He walks right up to me, and I have to strain my neck to look him in the eye. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands so he just puts them in his pocket. “How you been, Liam? Haven’t seen you in forever!”</p><p>“Yeah, haven’t seen you in a hot minute, either. How’ve you been?”</p><p>“Aw I’m doin’ great.” he starts laughing. “Did you pee yourself??”</p><p>Suddenly, I lose my smile. “Nah, I just got off work washing dishes.”</p><p>Not taking that for an answer, he presses on. “Really? You expect me to believe that?”</p><p>“What, and it’s easier to believe that I’ve got a three pint bladder?”</p><p>He nearly doubles over in laughter at that one. I find myself laughing a bit at that, too. Without much warning he’s down on one knee “Why don’t you come meet my friends, man, they’d love you!” and before I know it he’s scooped me up in one of his paws.</p><p>“WOAH! Guess we’re going this way, now!” I cry out, just a hint of agitation in my voice. Quite a number of rodents have reservations about getting picked up by bigger mammals. I can’t say I’ve ever shared those same reservations... Personally I wouldn't mind gettin' carried around in some royal chair like you see in those old mob movies - but at the very least I’d like to be asked before getting swept off the ground.</p><p>After a couple of steps he lets me off, not very gently, onto the table he was sitting at. Surrounding me, on all sides, are various different mammals. At watching me stagger, most all of them laugh. “Hey, everyone, this is Liam! I knew him in highschool. Liam, this is everyone!” he gestures around the table.</p><p>I give a general nod, and a half-smile before looking around the table. There’s a hyena, a raccoon, and-</p><p>“Hey, I know you!” I call out. Sitting there, next to mystery-coyote, is none-other than the ewe girl. “You were at Kirk’s party, like, a week ago, right?” I appear to have caught her off guard. She awkwardly looks to her friends, then back down to me with my big dopey smile. “Yeah, you were talkin’ with Cole, weren’t you?”</p><p>“I mean, I went to a party last week, but I don’t know who Kirk or Cole is.” She looks at me like I just grew three heads. My smile fades.</p><p>“Did you pee yourself or something?” the raccoon is looking at me with this unsettling grin, as though I’m not gonna be able to answer and not sound stupid. Talk about a broken record.</p><p>“Uh, n-no, I just got off work-”</p><p>“Yeah, right, Mr. ‘Three Pint Bladder!’ Seriously! That’s what he said!” Pretty soon everyone but me is laughing.</p><p>“Yes, uh, that’s… It’s very funny.”</p><p>“Hey, an’ what are you wearin’?” the hyena slurs out. I look down at myself: Normal work clothes. Tac-boots, cargo pants, crummy button down. “You look like, you’re… like… gonna bomb, like… an airport or something!”</p><p>I just stare at him, like through a sheer force of my own will he’ll realize just how unbelievably stupid what he just said sounded. But of course, the raccoon and coyote are laughing like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard, and naturally the hyena joins in.</p><p>“That’s not very funny.” I say, in no uncertain tone or terms.</p><p>“Well, you’ve gotta admit, you look like some kinda terrorist or something.”</p><p>I turn around and glare daggers at the ewe, with this ‘matter of fact’ look on her face that only serves to make me even angrier. “Y’know what? Screw this.” I turn back to the coyote, who’s name I couldn’t care less about anymore, and pick up my bike. “Let me down.” I demand.</p><p>He puts out his arms, “Aw, c’mon, Leo, it’s just a joke!”</p><p>“I said let me down, I don’t like repeating myself.” If this were a cartoon, there’d be steam comin’ out of my ears.</p><p>“Oh, calm down, pip-squeak!” the ewe says, which is more than enough to put a grimace on my face. Otherwise, I ignore her. Suddenly, chuckles the coyote ain’t got such a big smile on his face. Reluctantly, he picks me up and sets me down on the concrete - much more gently than he did on the table. Good call by him.</p><p>As I leave, some more snickering can be heard - like schoolchildren who just heard their first naughty word. I don’t give them the satisfaction of even so much as a rude gesture… As much as it pains me to leave without telling all of them off.</p><p>As soon as I’m past the iron fence of the cafe’s patio, I’m on my bike. I’m seeing red the entire way back to the apartment. I couldn’t be more infuriated if I tried. <em>If I ever see that stupid piece of work again I’ll break his toes! Same goes for his cackling little cronies.</em></p><p>I’m riding fast, and I’m riding hard. All I’m interested in is getting home and forgetting about this night. The only thing that slows me down is a shop door being flung open right in front of me. I pump my breaks as hard as my fingers will allow, stopping just short of hitting the door. But, the door doesn’t stop opening, and I can spot the oblivious lion through the glass pushing it out without a care in the world.</p><p>“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, HEY!” I call out in vain, reversing my bike as quickly as my legs will carry me and just barely making it out of the way of the door. The lion walks past me, completely oblivious to me and probably the entire rest of the world. I call up “HEY, WATCH IT, WILL YA, YOU ALMOST FLATTENED ME!”</p><p>I see his ear twitch. He looks down at me curiously, and his brow furrows ”Yeah, whatever, little man.” not even stopping as he strides down the street.</p><p>I’m stunned in disbelief. “OH, BLOW IT OUT YOUR EAR, YA MORON!” <em>Tonight exists with the sole purpose of pissing me off!</em> Before I take off back down the road, I think out loud “What in the world is wrong with everyone?”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. What's Your Name?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Laughter's the best medicine."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The dining room of the Golf Club is bright the next morning. I stop and look around the room before making my retreat into the kitchen. The servers are running every which way setting up buffet tables, putting out placemats, and preparing for the brunch we have planned. It’s going to be a very busy day.</p><p>After clocking myself in I make my way to the sink when I run right into Lisa. Smiling, I chirp out “Good morning, Lisa!” She takes notice of me like she was lost in thought, weakly smiles, and makes off around me. <em>Huh. That’s concerning.</em> Almost instantly the thoughts of last night, which I had subconsciously flushed out of my mind, re-emerged in my head. <em>Am I screwed?</em> Before I can continue, I shake myself out of it. I’ve got work to do.</p><p>I listen idly to the sound of the cooks and servers talking, overshadowed by the sound of sizzling meat. I’m not feeling in a very musical mood. Of course, that means I’m alone with my thoughts now which I’m not particularly fond of. <em>Should you have said something more to that rat? If you had any sense, you’d’ve held your tongue. What would you even call that? Was that standing up for yourself? Of course it wasn’t you self-righteous coward. You just wanted to jump on another opportunity to be right. You just wanted a win.</em> I’m so enamored in lambasting myself I don’t even bother with ‘Thank you’s’ when something’s set down for me.</p><p>It’s not long into my shift when I hear “Excuse me, Liam?”</p><p>A look over my shoulder reveals that it’s Lisa, but she’s not the one that said anything. She’s with Sheryl - A rat even thinner than I am, and the head of the Golf Club. Neither of them look too pleased to be speaking with me… Not exactly in a “I’m going to light you on fire with my eyes” sort of way, more of a somber, “I really wish we didn’t have to talk about this” sort of way.</p><p>I say nothing, instead turning on my heels, putting my arms behind my back, and waiting patiently for whatever’s to come. “Uh, Liam, we wanted to talk to you about… what happened last night.” I knew that before she even opened her mouth.</p><p>“Uhh… Yes! Uh, of course, what would you like to... speak about?” Sheryl looks at Lisa, and Lisa was watching her. She motions for me to follow them, and I dutifully comply.</p><p>The moment the door is shut, she begins, “So… Last night, you spoke with Mr. Holeton, is that correct?”</p><p>“Uh… Who?” The neutral look of feigned calm is replaced with genuine confusion.</p><p>Lisa chimes in. “He was the older gentleman that was with you at the bar.”</p><p>“Oh! Uh, yes! Yes, I did speak with him.”</p><p>“Yes, well. We were wondering if you might be able to tell us what he happened to say?”</p><p>Oh dear. I pause and analyze the situation. I don’t know exactly what this is about but it can’t bode well for any parties involved - least of all me. “W-well... He, uhm. Spoke… very outwardly… On his, uhm. Views on the... current situation… That, uh. Is unfolding presently. On the news.” I just let each word come out of my mouth as it pops into my head.</p><p>“Did he say ‘we should squash all predators like bugs’??” The look she’s giving me says ‘I know he did. You can’t try telling me he didn’t.’</p><p>“That is… approximately what he said.”</p><p>“Approximately?” She asks “Then what did he say?”</p><p>There’s a brief pause. I can’t think of anything else to try and sugar-coat it, so I cave. I shrink my head down, just barely, and say “That is exactly what he said.”</p><p>Sheryl nods her head, solemnly. “Thank you, Liam. That’s all we needed. Why don’t you go back inside.”</p><p>I nod my head, returning the somber feeling (not knowing why) and walking back inside.</p><p>There’s a low, anxious feeling in my chest. My mind has gone blank of words, and all my focus has disappeared. It’s not on my thoughts, not on the dishes I’m still washing, not even really on this pressure that’s, at this moment, restricting my lungs. But, I just keep doing my job.</p><p>I can’t hear anything. It’s like the sounds of the kitchen and everyone talking are just disconnecting somewhere along the point between my ears and my brain. But it doesn’t stop me from doing my job - it almost seems like I’m doing my job faster than typical. Everything feels blurry, and jagged, but it’s all still clear, but I can’t tell myself it’s all clear.</p><p>I’d never be able to recount how long this goes on for. It could have been hours or it could have been minutes before I hear “Hey Liam.” The voice is muffled, like it was in the other room. But it’s clear as day, and whoever said it is obviously right behind me. I try to turn around, but I can’t. I know I want to turn around, but nothing’s moving the way I want it to. In fact, by this time, I’m not moving a muscle. I’m not even certain I’m breathing.</p><p>Movement! I’m moving again! I set down the plate in my hand, and abruptly I’m leaning over the sink, grasping it for dear life. My head slumps down, and I make a face like I just got stuck with a red hot poker - every part of my face scrunches up, and soon every part of my body is stiff. Then, I open my eyes, and I’m completely winded and breathing heavily.</p><p>I almost have to remind myself where I am. Still at the golf club, still in the kitchen, someone’s still behind me. Without letting go of the sink, I look back at my audience. It’s the Mystery Squirrel. I can’t quite see his face through the stars in my eyes but it’s either one of fear or concern of some sort. “You alright, Liam?”</p><p>“Yeah.” I lie, weakly. “Yeah, I’m… Fine. What’s up?”</p><p>He crouches down a little, matching his own eye-level with mine as I lean down over the sink. “Just wanted to tell you we’ve got the leftovers from the breakfast brunch, and a whole bunch of us are eating. We wanted to know if you wanted to join us?”</p><p>I ponder the question in my own mind while I look at him. <em>‘We?’ Who is ‘We?’</em> I give him an incredulous look, and by this time he’s just trying his best to put on a smile. Slowly, I nod my head. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I’ll get something.” I sigh before standing up straight and blinking rapidly, trying my best to recover as he walks off.</p><p>Once my bearings are clear, I abandon my station and make my way over to where most of the servers are hanging around talking, plates in hand. They’ve got oatmeal, toast, and beetle sausages sitting out, which I observe tiredly. I dish myself as much as I think I can eat, and almost walk back to my station when I notice from behind half-lidded eyes; Mystery Squirrel.</p><p>He’s looking at me, seemingly very pleased with himself and grinning widely. I don’t smile back, just stop frowning instead which is as close to a smile as I can gather. I suppose that means he wants me to stay, but I still don’t know who this ‘we’ is. Not a single other mammal acknowledged me as I came over, and the fact that Squirrel Guy did is kind of putting me on edge.</p><p><em>What does this guy want with me? Does he want me to do something for him?? What does he gain from being all cordial?</em> I’m staring him down as I eat my toast. If he sees me doing it, he doesn’t let on. He just keeps talking with everyone else. Talking and talking about… Gazelle?</p><p>“Yeah, there’s gonna be another rally going on tomorrow. I hope I get to see her!”</p><p>“Oh that would be so cool!”</p><p>“Do you know how long they go on for?”</p><p>“I wonder if she’d give me an autograph!”</p><p>I chime in “Are you guys talkin’ about the Gazelle.. Peace rallies or whatever they’re called?”</p><p>One of them, a rat girl I’d seen before, looks at me and gives an affirmative nod. I think about the “peace rallies” and I realize that all I’ve heard about them is that it’s Gazelle putting them on, and they get nothing but protest. <em>Protesting peace.</em> That gets a chuckle out of me. It reminds me of that same quote that got a laugh out of me even last night. <em>“Takes courage to come out in support of peace and justice and brotherhood.”</em></p><p>I decide in my head to wait for a lull in the conversation. Then, when I get the opportunity, I’ll tell it to everyone else. They’ll all get a laugh, and maybe people’ll actually stop treating me like the invisible rat. <em>Well, let’s not get TOO hopeful.</em></p><p>I wait, patiently, watching the conversation bounce back and forth between everyone - even Mystery Squirrel is involved. Sure wish he had a nametag. Suddenly, the conversation has slowed down. Nobody’s said a word in a solid couple of seconds. Now’s my chance.</p><p>I start with, “You know, with all this that’s been going on-”</p><p>“I’ve been listening to Try Everything for like… Literally days, it is SO GOOD.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, there’s some really good songs on that album!”</p><p>Okay, so maybe I’ll have to wait a little longer. <em>Fine. That’s fine. Totally fine. I can wait.</em> I’m thankful that the conversation hasn’t really diverged away from Gazelle. <em>Would it be awkward to bring it up now? I mean it’s still vaguely connected, right? It wouldn’t be too weird.</em> Then, the one who had the last word finishes his sentence. Another opportunity presents itself.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking about these peace r-”</p><p>“My friend from Sahara Square went to the rally yesterday! She said it was insane!”</p><p>“Yeah, I saw the stuff on the news about it. Were the protests really that bad??”</p><p>“I guess so. They had to bring in the ZPD and everything!”</p><p>Maybe a little more forceful approach would get the message across. I clear my throat and speak louder and with more direction than I had been.</p><p>“Y’know, I had heard a quote-”</p><p>“Did anyone get hurt?”</p><p>“I don’t know, she didn’t say.”</p><p><em>Read the room, moron. Nobody cares. Just shut up already.</em> I heave out a sigh, resigned, angrily, to my defeat. So much for that plan. Slowly, I turn myself around and back to the kitchen. “Hey, Liam!” <em>You've got to be kidding me.</em></p><p>Mystery Squirrel comes around the group, and up to me. “Where are you going?” <em>Where do you think, Hidestine?</em></p><p>I motion back to the sink. “Back to work.” The aggravation and coldness in my voice should hopefully give him the hint. Key word being ‘should’ as it, of course, doesn’t deter him.</p><p>“Well, hey, I just wanted to know if you had any plans tonight, cause I got a killer party goin' on.”</p><p>I can’t figure this guy out - <em>‘Yeah, lemme just drag you into this conversation with all my friends, and then make no show of effort to actually include you in said conversation. Then, I’ll just drag you to a party where you can spend an entire evening doing that exact same thing! Doesn’t that sound like so much FUN??’</em> I need that like a punch in the gut. All I offer is a chuckle, and a shake of the head. Then I think of a real stinger…</p><p>“I’m sorry, what’s your name again?” My words are calculated and sharp. I might as well have swept his legs right out from under him.</p><p>The look on his face says it all, but he keeps his voice composed. “It’s… Steven.”</p><p>“Steven.” I repeat to myself, rolling it around on the tongue, then letting it sit in the air for just a brief moment. “Well, y’know, Steve, I’m not feeling in a very partying mood today.” I put my free hand up in a feign surrender. “I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I’m afraid I just won’t be able to make it.” Leaving him where he stands, I turn around and keep walking. That’s the most polite and cordial way I could think of to say ‘up yours, buddy.’</p><p>My work has piled up. By the time I step back to the sink, some of the piles of plates are nearly as tall as I am. The best place to start, I figure, is with the plate in my hand. All I can think about right now is my work. Nothing else could possibly take precedent at that moment. But as much as I try not to, my mind wanders back to looking around the group of servers, each with a plate in hand, talking about this, or that. And how not one could care enough to give me the time of day. The feeling keeps bouncing around in my chest. It’s hard to breathe.</p><p>But then, without warning, a smile worms it’s way onto my face. The feeling in my chest doesn’t relent, but all I can think of is ‘I’m sorry, what’s your name again?’ Within a few short moments, my smile turns into laughter as I run the scene over and over again to myself. Each time I see the enthusiasm fade from his eyes in my head it gets me laughing even harder. Pretty soon I’ve stopped cleaning, and I’m hanging onto the edges of the sink again.</p><p>Even as I think to myself <em>‘C’mon, it wasn’t that funny!’</em> I just keep laughing. I’m doubling over, trying my best to pull myself together… but I just can’t help it. I just keep laughing. I don’t even manage to stop when Lisa steps up next to me, placing her paw on my shoulder with a fearful look on her face. Not the somber fear she showed earlier. No, she looks just like she’s seen a rat-shaped ghost. Just seeing her like that makes me laugh even harder.</p><p>“Liam, are you alright?” I can’t tell if the concern in her voice is aimed towards me, or towards making sure I’m not the first prey to go savage which gets me laughing even harder still. If I could gasp for air I would - but I can’t.</p><p>She grasps me by my other shoulder and begins walking me away from the sink. Through the tears in my eyes I can make out one of the line-cooks taking my place. Gently, she says “Why don’t you go outside and take your break?”</p><p>I nod my head in agreement - it’s all I could do to communicate as she let me go and I barreled towards the back door. Swinging the door open, and stepping outside I look around, still laughing, before my eyes catch one of the old, dirty lawn chairs. I throw myself into it, slumping deeply and putting my hand over my eyes as I chuckle there in the alley’s shade for longer than I can even recall.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Seein' Eye-to-Eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Bongo, bongo, bongo, I don't wanna leave the Congo."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>LIAM!!!</em>
</p><p>The jump in my heart pulls me, just barely, to sit up in my cot. Groggily, I look around our darkened room. I can’t make anything out of the darkness before gravity overwhelms me, and I’m face first back into my pillow. <em>Dear ol’ dad. Wasn’t expecting to hear your voice.</em> I hear some sort of pitching and movement from somewhere in the room. A groan reveals it to be Danny, presumably getting dressed for work. He and I are usually up at the same time for work which makes today being a day off feel all the sweeter.</p><p>It would, of course, be nice if I could actually <em>enjoy</em> my opportunity to sleep for as long as I want. But, to be expected, it just doesn’t go that way. Every sound, every tiny detail of Danny’s morning routine gets picked up by my ears like they were two little radar dishes. I almost wonder to myself if it bothers George as much as it does me, but his light snoring answers that question for me.</p><p>I’d be tempted to get up, but I’m so exhausted that I know anything I tried to do would just end up being a pain. So I just lie there, eyes closed, tossing and turning, even well after I hear Danny make his way out the door. That tossing and turning could probably go on until my day off is completely wasted, but I realized the futility of sitting awake in bed for goodness knows how long.</p><p>Being as quiet as I can, I get dressed and sit down in front of my computer confident that <em>nothing</em> is going to interrupt the next 12 hours of me doing <em>nothing</em>. Didn’t get very far, though, as doing <em>nothing</em> wasn’t nearly as appealing as it sounds. All I can really do is sit in front of the glow of the screen and watch my desktop background blankly.</p><p>Nothing I could do on the computer sounds enjoyable. It should be - I know that much. But no matter what, I can’t bring myself to do anything. I run each option through my head… <em>I could watch something… No. I could play a game? No. I could…</em></p><p>I hear Danny’s keys jingle around before they even make it in the lock. <em>What in the world?</em> Caution is aired while jogging my way out from under the bookshelf and across the now much brighter, but still dim room. When I get to the door I peak out down the hallway to the living room. In view is Dan, still in his warehouse work clothes, looking disheveled - like he just got punched in the teeth and is still trying to process it.</p><p>“Hey, Dan!” I shout up to him, only to realize I probably shouldn’t be so loud with George trying to sleep right behind me. To close the gap, I jog down the hallway and into the living-room. I could imagine me scurrying along the carpet looks just about as stupid as I feel for doing it. Dan just sat in his same spot, saying nothing, watching me as he stands behind the sofa. “What’s goin’ on? No work today?” I call up to him.</p><p>He lets out a chuckle, like it was a stupid question. “I got <em>fired</em> today!” I’m completely stunned. Not even so much by the news, but by how casually he says it. Actually, it’s less casual and more of the same way he tells a stupid joke. And through his big, dopey smile I can see in his eyes that he’s broken up about it - as much as he’d never like to show it.</p><p>“What? Why? What happened?” from everything he’d told us about his job at Congo, everything seemed to be going fine. He even told us they were about to promote him!</p><p>“Uhh...” he chuckles again as he recalls, “apparently I didn’t fill out a form for my day off properly a while ago and I didn’t see the email telling me to fix it. So… I never did. And they fired me.” He says all this like he’s trying to get himself to believe it - but, of course, he’s still smiling… It’s faltering, but it’s there.</p><p>“Dan. I’m really sorry.” There’s not a lot else I can do to comfort him as I sit a few feet away from him, trying (and failing) not to strain my neck. I’m making a clear showing of concern on my face, but he probably wouldn’t be able to see it even if he was looking at me. He stares off out the window, still with a face of disbelief, and shrugs his shoulders.</p><p>“Yah alright, Danny?” I turn around. George is standing right where I was in the doorway, peeking around the corner and looking at Dan.</p><p>“Yeah, I was just telling Liam about how I don’t have a job anymore.”</p><p>“No, I heard. Liam kinda woke me up with his hollering.” I roll my eyes. <em>Oh, NOW you hear something.</em></p><p>Both of them laugh, and it’s hard for me not to crack a half-smile. When they finish, George says “That does suck, though. What a buncha dipsticks.”</p><p>“Dunno if that’s the word I’d use…” I mutter.</p><p>“I mean… It was kinda my fault…” Dan says as he shrugs his shoulders.</p><p>“Still, though. Like… That’s messed up, yo.” George lazily argues.</p><p>“Yeah, that sucks, dude.” Nobody says anything else. We all just stand there, stupidly, like we’re waiting for the curtain to drop. Finally, I break the silence. “Hm. Well… I guess that means the three of us have all got the day off, then, huh?” Dan says nothing, instead pondering the question and nodding his head. “Well how’s about we make the most of the day? The three of us can go out and do something fun. I mean, when do we ever really get an opportunity like this?.” I swivel myself around, “Unless… George? You goin’ back to sleep?”</p><p>“I mean, I’m down for whatever.” That’s about as close to an actual confirmation as anyone will have ever gotten out of George.</p><p>“Well what do you say Dan? We can go out, hang around, do whatever… Get your mind off it a little bit?”</p><p>“Uhhh…” You can see him convincing himself in his head. “S-Sure. Yeah. Why not? Let's do it.”</p><p>George gets dressed, with Dan opting to stay in his work clothes. Pretty soon, we three are out the door and down to Dan’s car. It’s nice of George to carry me down the stairs, although it was probably out of a concern for the time it’d take us all to get down, rather than for the sake of making it easier for me to get down.</p><p>As we all get into Dan’s car, sitting there on the street, it occurs to the three of us that we don’t know what we actually want to <em>do</em>. Dan finally asks, “So… Where to?”</p><p>“We could go to the movies. The new Star Trunk is out, isn’t it?” I ask from my perch on George’s shoulder.</p><p>“Eh. I heard that was kinda trash.” Dan remarks. “We could go do laser tag? That’s always pretty fun.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know.” I reply, “Being in a confined room with a lot of big mammals that can’t see anything very well? I think you’d be down a friend. Pancake’d.”</p><p>Dan makes a face like that wasn’t something he had considered. I then look to my chauffeur, “What about you, George? Any preferences?”</p><p>“Nope. I got nothin’.”</p><p>That’s as much as I could’ve expected out of George, but it’s always nice to ask.</p><p>“You guys care if we just go to the mall?” Dan says, distantly.</p><p>“Yeah, totally.” both George and I say in unison.</p><p>The drive is quiet. Every so often, Danny mutters out something about another driver on the road along the lines of “Alright, come on buddy. I don’t have all day. Let’s keep it moving. What are you doing?” George, in fashion, adds nothing. I’ve since been moved down to his hooves from his shoulder because I’m still supposed to be wearing a seatbelt and we don’t exactly need to get pulled over right now.</p><p>I look up to Dan, hooves on the steering wheel (I’ll never fully understand how he’s able to do anything with a pair of hooves like his,) whose focus is between that of the road, and almost certainly his unemployment. I then look up to George, whose eyes might as well be playing static. This all feels a lot more somber and macabre than I was hoping it would.</p><p>Suddenly, and without warning, half of my brain comes up with a joke. The other half laughs at that joke, and without another millisecond of thought, I’m acting it out. I turn around in George’s palms to face him and lie on my belly. My legs are swinging up in the air behind me, with my head resting in both my paws as I look up to George, exaggeratedly fluttering my eyes at him. I sigh heavily and say “Ohh, Georgie…”</p><p>He snaps out of his blank stupor and looks down to me, in his palms. He looks confused, and a little bit scared. I’ve got him right where I want him. I begin lamenting, “Oh, how I love being so close to you, as you hold me in your hooves so dearly.” The facade begins falling apart, as I’m incapable of stifling my laughter. I barely make out through my snickering, “You- You have such beautiful-” I have to look away. He starts laughing with me. “Your grasp is so strong around me, and you make me feel so safe here with you!” Is all I can say, before I succumb to a fit of giggling.</p><p>I can feel each of his chuckles as he cups me in his hooves. Danny, realizing what’s going on, starts laughing as well - much more controlled than either George or I. “Liam. I swear. If you don’t shut up, I will toss you right out the window. No hesitation.” which gets me going even harder.</p><p>Through laughs, George says, “I’ll let him do it, too!”</p><p>“I’d <em>hope</em> he’d do it, honestly!” We finally calm down enough for Dan to inform us (or rather, <em>me</em>, because I can’t see out of any of the windows) that we’ve arrived. Stepping out into the late morning sun I’m suddenly moved from George’s hooves onto his shoulder again. I sit as I normally would sit anywhere else, with my tail hanging loosely off the back of his shoulder. Of course, I dig my fingers into his shirt and collar as tightly as I can - George may not be nearly as tall as Danny but I’d rather not take the quick way to the pavement, regardless.</p><p>Approaching the door, it’s hard not to notice the group gathered off to the right. Prey mammals of all kinds - some sheep, a pig or two, some antelopes or gazelles or whatever… Most notably a giraffe, who stands at least twice as tall as the tallest door to the mall. Each one holds a sign of one kind or another sprayed with slogans like “GET OUT SAVAGES” or “SAVAGE PREDS - OVER OUR HEADS” <em>what’s that even supposed to mean??</em></p><p>Watching over the whole thing are a couple of mall security guards. Big guys. Even by their own species standards. One’s a rhino, the other’s a tiger, and neither look happy to be watching the whole thing unfold. Although, I could imagine the politics of the situation is lost on them - they probably just wanna go back inside.</p><p>“Don’t let savages near our children!”</p><p>Suddenly we’re stopped. It’s not some idle, meaningless chanting we’ve just heard. Instead, it’s idle, meaningless <em>speaking</em>. All three of us take notice of her at once: some middle-age looking ewe, with a big angry smile across her face. In one hoof, a little tupperware dish filled to the brim with pins, in her other hoof, a pin she’s trying to shill onto Danny.</p><p>He says nothing, just puts up his hoof in an attempt to shoo her away. But before we get the chance to make our retreat, I speak up. “You got any rat-sized?”</p><p>She looks at me, actually at my eye-level thanks to George, and looks far too deep in thought for my question. If I had to put money on it, I’d say rodents aren’t something this particular ewe gives much of any thought to beyond trying not to step on us and the fact that she has to go so far as to speak to one is clearly throwing her a curveball. <em>I can only wonder what it is about female sheep and pissing me off recently.</em></p><p>“Uh… I, uhm.” She looks down at her tupperware, then quickly back to the group, chanting and outcrying. It feels like she looks right through me as she says “I uh… Don’t think we have anything mouse-sized.”</p><p>Danny’s looking at me, shocked. If I could see George’s face, it’d probably be the same. I stare at her coldly and with a deceptive cordiality I command, “Well, then, I’ll take the one meant for him.” thumbing towards Danny, who’s just now picking up on what I’m doing.</p><p>“Uh. Sure. Of course.” She certainly makes no show of excitement in finding another ‘proud supporter,’ I couldn’t fathom why. Dan’s flashing a big smile at me, and I can see one forming on the side of George’s snout. My expression is unchanging as she pinches the colorful pin over to me, which I take with my free paw as though it were a great shield.</p><p>“Thank you very much - ‘Down with the predators!’ and all that.” That’s the que for us to walk off, and as we do, the tiger security guard walks past us. I can hear him telling the ewe something along the lines of her having to ‘do that somewhere else.’ and I can only hope that the irony isn’t lost on her.</p><p>Once we’re just barely out of earshot I proudly ask, “Isn’t it wonderful that such stupid people in our society go to such great lengths to advertise their stupidity? It really helps you to know who to avoid. Speaking of which, what’s my prize say?”</p><p>Danny squints down at the pin and says “‘How long until it’s you?’ <em>Oooo</em>, that's ominous!”</p><p>“And ambiguous! One of you’d ought to wear it around. I think the colors might clash with my outfit.” We all chuckle. As I inspect the pin, I ask, “You have to wonder just how long it took them to scratch off ‘Don’t vote Lionheart’?”</p><p>“Okay, I know you’re joking, but I seriously think those are Swinton’s campaign colors.”</p><p>“Really?? Oh wouldn’t that be rich.”</p><p>Before we crest through the doors, I shake my head. Not just at the insanity of this whole situation, but at the hilarity of it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Being the Bigger Mammal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Sorry. But, like, not <em>that</em> sorry."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>One can’t say it’s not a good day to be here. It’s not a very good <em>day</em>, but it’s a good day to be <em>here</em>. Being a weekday, the mall is just about half-dead. I bob up and down on George’s shoulder, with the pin in my free paw. I, obviously, have no control over where we go and knowing George, he’s probably just following Dan - who appears to be moving with some kind of vague purpose.</p><p>We move through the mall atrium where four seemingly unending hallways of different stores and shops meet. I gaze up to the skylights, counting each level to myself until I get to number 5 at the top. Sunbeams reflect off the orange-painted columns which sit in front of each shop. Sitting dead-center of the room on the white polished tiles is one of the Next-Gen Herd SUV’s, surrounded on all sides by colorful advertisements that proclaim ‘YOU COULD WIN THIS CAR!’</p><p>“Car is such a strong word - I’d attribute that thing to being more of a wheeled tank.” My joke falls on deaf ears. Dan’s too busy looking around, inspecting the place. You’d think he doesn’t come here every week or so with George to fool around for no good reason. They always ask me to come, but I just never have it in me.</p><p>Before I have the opportunity to take it all in myself we walk off down the corridor to our left. We bob and weave past kiosks and pairs of mammals walking every which way. “So where are we going?” I call out.</p><p>It takes Dan a minute to realize I had even spoken. He looks over as he walks and says, “Huh? Oh. Uh. I dunno.” And feeling that to be satisfactory enough, he turns back forward. I realize it’s not my place to question it, but I’m completely thrown off. <em>You’d figure that with all the purpose and direction we’re walking with, that there might be… I dunno… A purpose? Or maybe a direction we’re going?</em></p><p>But regardless, we just keep walking. I look all around us, realizing how little I had ever taken in of the place. I start noticing little things… Like the different potted plants, which I’d always assumed were merely plastic. Or the different mammals that I always end up peering at, but never really look at - There goes a hyena, eagerly looking up to an elephant while he trails just a short ways behind, and there’s yak in a biker jacket with some impressive liberty spikes. I feel very at ease for reasons I can’t really explain.</p><p>At least, I’m at ease until my stomach growls quite audibly. “Hey, uh, Dan? Mind if we stop by the food court? I didn’t really get breakfast.” <em>Come to think of it, did I get anything for dinner last night?</em></p><p>“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna say anything but I’m kinda hungry, too.” George adds from next to me.</p><p>I realize from his words that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to ask that. We are here for Dan, after all. “Uh- Yeah, I mean. We don’t have to, it’s totally fine I just figured-”</p><p>“Yeah let’s do it.” And before I know it, Dan’s leading us off in what I think is the direction of the food court. Now I’m realizing how much of a moron I look like by trying to backpedal. I slump down as much as I can without falling off of George’s shoulder.</p><p>With a right here and a left there, we’re at the food court. A big oval room with a tall, dome ceiling. It’s a lot busier than the rest of the mall, with big groups going every which way. Definitely a lot of herd mammals - can’t say I understand the mentality. “You can set me down, George. I think I’m gonna go get something from that Mongrelian place. You gonna get anything, Danny?”</p><p>As George grabs me off his shoulder, Danny’s brow raises. “Well it is lunchtime. I think I’ll go get a Bug Burga.”</p><p>“Ohh. That sounds pretty good.” George adds.</p><p>With my feet on the ground for the first time since we left, I ask apprehensively, “Wait. You’re a horse. Is that… Good for you?”</p><p>Dan looks down at me, with his brow now furrowing, “What do you mean? Horses are omnivores. <em>And</em> I don’t <em>care</em> what I put in my body.” The three of us chuckle.</p><p>“I can definitely understand that.” I say, looking up at the both of them, “Let’s meet up back here.”</p><p>I keep my free paw in my pockets as I make my way across the floor. My head is leaned forward as I keep my eyes up. Part of me wishes I’d just asked George to walk me over there, but it’s a little too late now. Besides, I’m sure that gets a little annoying after a while. Annoying, like carrying this big stupid pin around. It’d be nice to toss it somewhere, but I’m sure somebody would notice. </p><p>Only about 3 different mammals almost step on or over me before my destination comes in view. I always love coming to this place - and not just because they have a rodent serving-window, either! But all of a sudden, I hear an all-too familiar voice right directly behind me. “Liam? Is that you? Hey! Uh, can I talk to you?”</p><p>
  <em>You’ve got to be kidding me.</em>
</p><p>I stop and turn around to face none-other than everyone’s favorite <em>coyote. Is this guy just magnetized to wherever I am? </em></p><p>“Hey! Can’t believe I’m seeing you here!” There’s a big smile on his face, all buddy-buddy like - Showing off his nice, big, yellowish teeth. It’s unnerving to say the least, but I stand my ground.</p><p>I look up, glare at him, and flatly expound, “Yeah. Neither can I.” </p><p>His grin sinks away. In an instant, he lets a look of dissatisfaction take its place and the guy looks just about as displeased to be talking to me as I am to be talking to him. The both of us are silent in the bombardment of noise from all around us. It’s like he’s waiting for me to make the first move or something. </p><p>“What do you want?” I cross my arms as I look up at him, which pains my neck.</p><p>“Uh. Listen. I wanted to say sorry about the other day. That was, uh, a little mean of me and my friends.”</p><p><em>Huh. Wasn't expecting that.</em> He still looks stern, and not very happy to be speaking with me, but you know what? He’s trying to be the bigger mammal. And, the sooner I say “It’s all good,” the sooner I don’t have to be talking to him anymore.</p><p>I sigh, heavily and waive him off, “Don’t worry about it, man. It’s water under the bridge.” My expression doesn’t change, but if he’s going to go out of his way to-</p><p>“And, y’know, you kinda… Blew up on us there.”</p><p>He looks at me, a little expectantly. <em>Oh! OH! So you want an apology from ME! Because I’M the bad guy! Now THAT is what I should have been expecting.</em></p><p>“Yeah. I guess I did.” I say, disinterestedly, not breaking my death-stare from him. He looks around slowly, waiting for some invisible mammal to back him up. Because of course, how could I be so cruel as to deny him an apology?? Since he apparently has nothing more to say, I get fed up, “You know what? Have a good rest of your day, man.” </p><p>But before I can make hardly half a step to turn around, he bends over, trying to get closer to my level. His displeasure has graduated to frustration and he asks, “Really, man? That’s it? That’s all you got to say?”</p><p>“Oh, excuse me, do you want a medal for apologizing or something?” <em>Lightbulb.</em> A devilish grin overcomes me, “Well here you go!” I fork forward the little pink and yellow pin, holding it above me and towards him. When he doesn’t take it, I drop it unceremoniously and in an instant my smile is gone. “Now, get lost.”</p><p>“Come on, man! I thought we were friends.” Still hunched over, he puts his arms out in a pleading motion, but still clearly angry.</p><p>“<em>FRIENDS?!</em>” I’m taken with shock, “<em>WE’RE FRIENDS?!</em>” I barely know you! I don’t even know your <em>name!</em>”</p><p>“It’s Otto, dude!” He actually almost looks hurt by that.</p><p>His interruption only serves to make me even angrier. “I DON’T CARE WHAT YOUR NAME IS! I don’t know you! I don’t WANT to know you, you low-down moron! You, or your friends! Now BLOW, willya? I’m BUSY!” I turn around and stomp off. But I don’t get very far.</p><p>He hollers, “HEY!” </p><p>Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain at the base of my tail as I go to take my next step. Turning around, I look up to ‘Otto’ with a genuine fear in my eyes. He’s got his foot stomped right down on my tail. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but I ain’t going much of anywhere. Then, without another word he’s scooped me up in his paw, gripping me around the torso - and none-too gently.</p><p>I’m brought right up to his eye level, and he yells out “WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM YOU SPECIEST LITTLE DIRTBAG?” </p><p>
  <em>OH, I’M A SPECIEST NOW?</em>
</p><p>Of course, in my terror, I don’t say that. My mind catches up with my situation and all I can do is struggle against his paws as I just cry out, “LET GO OF ME!” </p><p>As I look into his hateful, yellow eyes, my mind races at a thousand miles a minute. <em>This is it. My big mouth finally got me killed. He’s gonna crush me in his paw and that’ll be that. Like a bug. You deserve this. You finally got what you deserved.</em> I can’t break my eyes from his. I’m too petrified to even attempt, lest he bite my head off right then and there.</p><p>Somehow, through my own thoughts and from out of the clamour of the food court,  voices start becoming clearer…</p><p>“What’s he doing?”</p><p>“Oh my goodness!”</p><p>“Look at him!”</p><p>“Is he going savage?”</p><p>“He’s got a rat in his paws!”</p><p>“Someone call the police!”</p><p>“It’s another savage!”</p><p>“Look out! Watch it!”</p><p>Otto’s quicker to notice than I am. He breaks his gaze with me, and is suddenly looking all around in a panic. At once, I wake up and look around, same as him. There’s a big ring of mammals at more than a few arm’s lengths away, watching on in horror. Anyone that was sitting nearby has since abandoned their spot.</p><p>Just him and me.</p><p>Now I’m back in the real world. Quick pulls at his digits offer no relenting, but as he stands back up straight, worry growing on his face, I start laughing. He looks down at me like I’m the crazy one here, and as his eyes lock with mine I stop my cackling long enough to spit out,</p><p>“<em>You’re screwed.</em>”</p><p>That’s enough for him to remember he’s still holding onto me and his grip loosens enough for me to pry myself free. I try to get my footing as best I can, but I’m not quick enough before a piercing cry rings out “HEY! YOU!”</p><p>What do you know? The cavalry’s arrived. It’s the rhino security guard from outside, trodding forward with all the speed his short legs can carry him with. Otto staggers, and throws me off my already dubious grip. I almost thought I could recover it, but I’m not his concern anymore. His paw just sort of slumps down and before I know it, I’m falling.</p><p>Everything slows down as I fall backwards towards the floor. All I can hear is the wind rushing past my ears. There’s barely even enough time for me to gasp before,</p><p>
  <em>WHAM!</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Tell me About it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Wanna put money on it?"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Danny’s car lurches to a stop. I dig my fingers into the seat as best I can, trying not to go flying into the glovebox. Just as quickly as it had stopped, the car jumps back and I hit the backrest with a ‘thud’ when it makes a full stop. It doesn’t do my headache a lot of good.</p><p>“Alright, we’re here!” Danny says, chipper and spritely.</p><p>I groan while I rub the back of my neck, “Yeah. I could tell.”</p><p>Dan starts to unbuckle his seatbelt, and I reach my paw out towards him. “Uh, no! No, you’re fine. You don’t have to help me get down. Just, uh, if you could get the door for me that’d be fine.”</p><p>He stops, and looks at me for a brief moment. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He reaches across the center console and over the passenger seat. I look up at his arm, watching his hoof reach for the handle.</p><p>I get a full, close up view of the short black hairs on his arm that work their way from his hoof up to his elbow, where they abruptly turn to a fine blonde. I don’t often look this closely at Danny. I laugh, that I’ve known him for over ten years and seen him all the way down to his underwear but still feel as though I barely know him. The thought saddens me as I chuckle, and I try to shut it out of my head.</p><p>The door opens, and I walk backwards towards the edge of the car’s seat while looking up at Danny. “Thank you, again, for driving me here,” I call up as I walk, “even though you don’t have to - I’m more than fine riding myself here. You have more important things to be doing besides taxi-ing me around, anyways. Like finding a job!” I shoot him an admonishing look and point at him, sternly, like a scolding mother.</p><p>He slumps back in his seat while throwing his head back, brushing his nose against the headliner. “Ugh! Yeah, yeah, I’ll look. What time do you need to get picked up?”</p><p>Proudly, I say, “I’ve already made arrangements! I’m hanging out with Kirk tonight.”</p><p>Dan’s ears perk up, and his eyes widen, “Well, what time are you gonna be back?”</p><p>The only answer I can offer is a quick shrug of the shoulders, followed by, “I dunno. But, you’ll be the first to know when I do. I’ll see you tonight.”</p><p>I stop and half turn around before rearing up to jump down to the sidewalk below. “And, uh, Dan?” I sheepishly say, “Thank you. I do, really mean that.” He nods, and flashes his charming smile before I jump down onto the concrete.</p><p>The car door shut behind me, but I don’t hear the car leave until I’m through the doors. The store is dead quiet. The only person in sight is Michelle, who turns her head automatically towards me.</p><p>Stepping over her tail and behind my own register next to hers, I begin clocking in at our computer. “Good morning, Michelle. How are we today?”</p><p>“Eh. Fine.” She says, quietly,</p><p>I say nothing more as I type away at our computer, because I want to give her my full attention when I ask, “And what’s the newest development with Jesse today?”</p><p>As I look to her, expectantly, with a big, evil grin on my face she rolls her eyes and nods her head. Without returning my gaze, she says concisely, “I’m not telling you.”</p><p>I can't say I was expecting that. I would have been more prepared for 'Nothing's happened' than 'I'm not telling you.' But this gives me a unique opportunity to annoy my fellow rat and I'm not about to squander it. “Oh, is that so?” I ask, feigning being hurt. "Any particular reason why you're not telling me?"</p><p>"I'm not telling you."</p><p>"Yes, but why?"</p><p>She shrugs her shoulders and repeats, "I'm not telling you."</p><p>“Well, y’know, I think you will tell me.” I lean down onto my scratched counter - my right paw propping my head up, and my left resting on my hip.</p><p>With head held high she says, “Nope! I’m not telling you.”</p><p>“You know how I know that you’re going to tell me?” I don’t wait for an answer, “Because every day I’ve been here over the last week you’ve had something to say about Jesse; a mouse that is first-off, half your size, which I find especially entertaining," she rolls her eyes, "second-off, no longer working here, meaning you have no justifiable reason to see him beyond your own conscious decision to do so, and third-off, is very much your ex-boyfriend, and I’ve advised you multiple times not to see him again and to very simply cut him out of your life.”</p><p>The look she’s currently sporting is one I’ve seen many times before - It’s Michelle’s “I know you’re right but I don’t want to admit it because I’m incredibly stubborn” look, which consists of pursing her lips, nodding her head, and looking up to the ceiling. Occasionally, she might even breathe deeply or tap her counter with annoyance.</p><p>I stand up straight again, and my smile diminishes, “And yet every day over the last week or so you’ve told me every detail of how he’s done this or that, how upset it makes you, blah blah blah. And today I’m supposed to believe that suddenly you don’t have anything to say?” my look of disbelief is purely snide.</p><p>“No,” she corrects, not meeting my eyes, “I have something to say... But I’m not telling <em>you.</em>”</p><p>“Ohh, yes you will.” I pester.</p><p>“Nope! Not gonna happen.”</p><p>“You wanna know how I know you will?” I, again, don’t wait for an answer, “Well, what’s gonna happen is we’re gonna get a whole lot of customers, and pretty soon you’ll forget whatever inane reason you’re not telling me, and then you’ll get bored when we have no customers, and then you’ll tell me. So why don’t we just get it over with now, huh? Rip the bandage off?”</p><p>Ever-defiant, she holds her head high, “Nu-uh. I’m not telling you.”</p><p>As she says this one of our co-workers, Oliver, walks by. The mouse is clearly too enveloped in helping a customer who’s following close behind him to notice either of us.</p><p>I thumb in his direction and say, “Even though you already told Oliver??”</p><p>She looks at me and asks, “How did you know I told Oliver?”</p><p>My grin curls over at the sides of my mouth, “I didn’t.”</p><p>There’s that look again.</p><p>I lightly chuckle to myself, looking around at the countless rows of varied products and polished concrete floors.</p><p>“Hi, welcome!”</p><p>My conditioning shoots my head, almost involuntarily, towards the door. I almost smile, even, but I’m suddenly frozen stiff. I feel my neck tense up, <em>ow,</em> as I stare blankly at the rat that just walked in.</p><p>She scowls all around her as she walks through the doors, looking at every trinket and bauble we have laid out, until soon enough I see her head swivel in my direction. I face forward as quick as I can - minding my business as usual and not daring to invoke her wrath were she to make eye-contact with me.</p><p>Within a few moments, I watch her walk past our registers, and safe in the knowledge that she doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head (as much as she’d like us all to believe otherwise) I look her up and down to confirm it is in fact her. With a rose purse slung over her shoulder, and her tail swinging back and forth, she suddenly turns the corner and vanishes from sight.</p><p>Without a second’s hesitation I turn to Michelle, “Okay, I was gonna tell you about how I got dropped on my head yesterday, but do you know who that was?”</p><p>“Wait, what? You got dropped on your head?”</p><p>I waive her confusion, “Not important! Do you know who that was?”</p><p>“Who was who?” I apparently didn’t waive it well enough,</p><p>“The-” I lean in and hush my tone, “The rat you just welcomed into the store!” I gesture off in the direction she disappeared in.</p><p>“No, who is she?”</p><p>“She’s my sister.”</p><p>“Oh, really?” Michelle asks, looking off to catch a glimpse.</p><p>That wasn’t the reaction I was shooting for, so I make it clear, “Yeah, and I can’t stand her.”</p><p>“<em>Ohh.</em>” She winces as she looks at me, still hunched over towards her.</p><p>“Yeah. ‘<em>Ohh</em>’ is right.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll take her.” Michelle reassures me, without even a moment’s thought.</p><p>I sigh, “I hope you can. She’s the last thing I wanna deal with right now. Stupid piece of-” I quickly stand up straight, and am overtaken with a big smile. “Hi there! Find everything we were looking for today??” The old, fat rat sets his bottle of shampoo and collection of mint Gnaw-On’s on the counter in front of me.</p><p>“Wonderful! Do you happen to need a bag for this today?” I gesture at the mouse family’s set of outdoor pillows.</p><p>“I was wondering if I might be able to interest you in signing up for our rewards program?” the hamster couple both nod ‘no’ from behind their overloaded cart, peering at me with disgust.</p><p>“Nope! Our coupons do not expire despite their listed expiration date!” I explain to the elderly rat woman, paw full of coupons, who is overcome with a mix of joy and surprise.</p><p>“Your total is going to be seventy eight forty three - will that be with cash or card?” the tall stoat says nothing, instead simply sticking his card in the chip-reader. I wait patiently for the card to read, and glance over to the customer Michelle is ringing up.</p><p>It’s her - Lindsay. My sister. She’s moving what’s in her cart to Michelle’s counter.</p><p>I’m caught completely off guard when she looks up briefly and her eyes catch mine, but I’m quick to correct myself and instead watch the stoat frustratedly punch in his PIN. The abrasive beeping from the machine is silenced when he yanks his card out.</p><p>“It said to pull it out.” He says in a gruff voice.</p><p>I nod my head, determined to look anywhere but to my left - as well as to say as little as possible before she leaves. But, there’s not much that can be done about that one, as I hand the stoat his bag with a, “Thank you very much, enjoy the rest of your afternoon and we hope to see you again very soon!” followed closely by “Hi, find everything you were looking for today?” The rat smiles brightly as she takes the stoat’s place and sets a smoothie maker down in front of me.</p><p>“Now, you wouldn’t happen to need a bag for this, would you?” I jest, as I scan the mouse’s stepladder. As he laughs to himself, I finally look to where Lindsay was. Where she stood is now a pregnant shrew with what must be an inch-tall beehive that Michelle is ringing up. I stop for just a moment, and lean over towards Michelle to tug her arm.</p><p>She looks to me, and shoots up an eyebrow. “What’s up?”</p><p>I nod, and quietly say, “Thank you.” I see her smile before I’ve fully turned back to my work.</p>
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